Another Name for Opportunity
by StuckInThePast
Summary: AU from about half-way through the Christmas special.  Things go differently for Mary and Anna.
1. Prologue

_Hello me lovelies! This is something I've been hoping to see for a while now, and while I'm sure there are plenty of writers who could handle it much better than I could, nobody has done it, so I thought I might as well give it a shot. My Mary is terribly rusty – you have been warned! Packed full of angst, naturally (I am such a stickler for it) but I daresay we can hope for some improvement over the coming chapters! Enjoy!_

**Prologue**

"What will you do?"

Anna breathed deeply and squeezed her husband's hands. "Lady Mary's going to America. I'm to go with her." She wouldn't cry. Not now, not before him. He had troubles enough.

He gave her a little smile. "Will you like that?"

"Under other circumstances I would." She'd done it now. And they had so little time. They'd been beyond lucky to scrape this half an hour, and she knew she had to say goodbye, but she couldn't. She couldn't let him go.

He turned her hands over in his. The guard was eyeing them particularly closely, but that didn't matter now. She tried to smile.

"I think you will enjoy it. A whole new life." There was a horrible tenderness to his tone. Anna recognised it. Their time was running out.

"I don't want it." Her voice caught. No. She would not cry in front of him.

"Anna…" It was barely a breath, or less than a breath, but it broke her heart. "You'll try to?"

She couldn't let him feel any worse. She managed a smile. "I'll try."

"Because I want you happy," he pressed, and there was such an eagerness and anxiety in him that she felt she must oblige him however she could. "I want you well taken care of. You'll have the money, of course – you don't need to give me that look, I know it will help – but if somebody…"

He stopped, and looked down, and Anna realised with a shock what he was saying to her. "John," she whispered, and he looked up at her. "Never," she said firmly, fixing her eyes on his and making sure he knew she meant it.

"Just humour me," he said, and if there was a little hollowness in his voice it resounded with sincerity. "Don't let my memory hold you back. If you ever find yourself loving again, or just in need of somebody, don't be afraid to take a step. I want you safe, I want you happy."

Anna gave him a smile and kissed his hand and promised to try and be happy. "I'll always love you," she said, a little brokenly. "No matter what happens, I'm yours."

They said their last goodbyes with tears, a tender kiss and a long, heartfelt embrace. Last time, just after the verdict, Anna had felt the full weight of his fear and unhappiness when she held him. He had been so afraid. Now, it was different, and he stood a little stronger. He had come to terms with his fate. She knew she never would. But this time he leaned on her support a little less, and they took care of each other.

That was the last time she ever saw him.

~0~

"You're really going."

"I really am." Mary gave Matthew a smile. It was the kind of smile she gave when she wanted to mask unhappiness, and that look in his eyes said he recognised it.

"Mary, I..."

"Yes?"

Matthew was trying to find words. There weren't any. He said nothing.

"I'm sure America will be wonderful," Mary said. Her chest tightened. She would not allow a man who didn't care for her to upset her in this way. They didn't need each other. "I dare say I'll write from time to time. You must promise me faithfully to do the same."

"Of course I will." Ceremony. Mary knew she wasn't going to write.

"Well, then. I suppose I must be going." She turned. He always disappointed her in the end.

"Mary-"

She turned, half-expectantly. Did she expect anything much of him now?

"I'm so sorry things couldn't have... well, worked out... with everything we... that is, I..."

She couldn't let him go on like this, it was unbearable. "Stop," she said, and he obeyed. Like a puppy, he always seemed to obey. It was like there was no fire left.

"I wish things could have been different," she said. If he wasn't able to speak clearly, she would do it for him. "I wish it was all simple. But it's not. I won't stay here to become some kind of exhibition. There's nothing to keep me here, and all I want is in America. Things aren't different, Matthew, and we only have the choice to learn and live with it."

There was accusation in her tone. He ought to have tried to keep her here. He wasn't going to. She tried to soften her tone, but she wasn't at all sure of her success. Matthew looked rather like a kicked puppy. He would get over it. No harm done.

"I'm sorry," she found herself saying. Why? She had nothing to apologise for.

"So am I," he said. He reached for her hand, and kissed it before she could stop him. "I hope America does give you everything you want. And make sure you do write. I know you don't mean your promise, but I wish you would."

Her heart softened more than she had intended. A genuine smile slipped through. She hadn't meant to let it out. She was going to miss him so very much.

"I'll try," she said, and fixed her mask. "I must go, Matthew. The train's about to leave."

She would not be so weak as to run from him, but she was never so relieved as she was when the train finally pulled away.


	2. Chapter 2

_Mary came to me a bit easier this chapter, which gives us some hope of my not completely wrecking her – although I really couldn't tell you how Patrick wound his way in! Thank you so much for the kind reviews and alerts, they are very much appreciated. Enjoy!_

**Chapter 1**

"_America is another name for opportunity."_ -Ralph Waldo Emerson

Mary found herself thinking of Patrick more than once during their crossing to America. She hadn't thought about him in years, aside from the time of that Gordon fellow during the war, but everywhere she looked she found herself thinking of him, wondering if this were what it was like for him on the _Titanic_. And then she wondered if he ever thought of her.

He had, of course, known she'd never loved him. In one of her contrary moods, when she was about fifteen, she had told him so herself, that she would marry somebody else if she was asked by a man she liked enough. Not long before the last time they saw each other, he had asked her if that Napier chap was what she meant. She'd only told him that it was good to have the option, but he had known very well she never loved him.

She had known nothing of the sort, in consideration of his feelings towards her. He had always bewildered her. Knowing she didn't care for him, he was still prepared to marry her, even after ten years of her clear indifference. And yet he accepted when she told him she was looking for somebody else. He never flirted as she did at balls and things, always saving the first and last dances for herself and Edith, paying courteous compliments to the appropriate ladies, but something always seemed strange about his behaviour towards her. She'd had men in love with her before, and they never behaved like Patrick. But neither did the men who weren't in love with her. Patrick was her enigma, and she wanted to have him love her. Just so that she knew it.

By all means they would be a formidable couple. They would have done very well together as Lord and Lady Grantham, and would probably have been comfortable together. They had always been good friends. But would it have been right? Would it have been half of what she might have had with Matthew?

She had to stop thinking about that.

It was good, though, when she could manage a wander around the ship without seeing Patrick pretending to like caviar or somebody's dress, and it really was beautiful. She had made a few friends – all her own age, all married – but quite enough to while away the hours. And they had left England before she made any headlines.

They didn't understand her, though, for all that they were fairly decent society. "My maid has just buried her husband, and she's very unhappy," was an explanation she gave one day when she didn't appear for breakfast, and was promptly told that if there was an impediment to her maid's efficient work, then she should be sacked at once. Mary was disgusted at the heartlessness of it, and even more so when it occurred to her that she had, not so long ago, been just the same. She didn't mention anything to Anna about that, of course, although there was very little else she didn't find herself pouring out of an evening. Somehow, despite all that her strings of nurses and governesses, not to mention her grandmother, had tried to implement in her, she had a truer friend in Anna than in any high-born lady.

The last night of their journey, Anna talked, more and brighter than she had in a long time. It was a long way off, but with that Mary knew she would come to recover.

"A whole new life," Anna was musing as she began to braid Mary's hair. "I suppose everything will be different in America."

"Not very different," Mary said. "Different accents, I suppose, but it will all be the same in essentials."

Anna was silent. Mary eyed her cautiously in the mirror. "Are you alright?"

"As near as I can be."

Mary nodded. "I suppose that's the best any of us can hope for." She should not have said that. She could hardly compare her own situation to Anna's. But Anna didn't look as if she minded very much.

"I suppose it is." She forced a smile.

Well, there was to be no more talking about that, then. Instead, Mary gave Anna a smile and said, "It's a new world for us both, then. We shall have to give ourselves over to the dozens of adventures one comes to expect from their novels."

Anna allowed a small smile. "Discovering buried treasure and famous long-lost relatives?"

"Naturally," Mary said. "And of course there's the rescuing of noble steeds from stable fires."

"Being swept up and carried across the country by hurricanes." It had been a long time since Mary had seen a smile as genuine as that one from Anna.

"Scores of Princes Charming to take our breath away."

Silence.

Then, quietly, "Do you miss Mr. Matthew very much, milady?"

That surprised Mary, perhaps more than it should have. She took a moment before answering, but Anna had trusted her enough to be honest, lately, and she ought to do the same.

"Yes," she said. "Very much. But he has disappointed me, and there's no going back now. I've no hope, and so I must move on."

Anna said nothing.

"Don't you think I'm right?"

"I'd never advise someone to give up on the person they love," she said.

"He gave up on me, you know."

"And Mr Bates…" There was a pause before Anna collected her breath – "Mr Bates gave up on me. Dozens of times. Just because our men are beaten easily doesn't mean we must be."

"It's different." Mary sighed. "Don't ask me how, but it is."

Anna didn't say anything as she tied the ribbon in Mary's hair. There was answer enough in that.

~o~

Anna was out on the deck, alone, watching the sky, and imagining what her husband would have thought of America. For a moment she managed to believe he was right there beside her, solid and present, and when she turned in a need for contact, it stung horribly to see the empty space.

Tears welled in her eyes. There was no reason why she shouldn't cry. Nobody was here to see or judge or pity her. She let them fall.

She missed him so much, when she was alone. It was impossible to feel any other way, of course, but when she was with others she could control it. There was a difference between being alone because your husband was in prison, and being alone because he was dead. She had only once shared a bed with him, but she had never slept well since. She longed so to feel him hold her.

"Alright, love?"

It took a second for her to catch her breath, and to get her tears under control. She offered a smile to the man who had interrupted her. "You made me jump."

"Sorry," he said with a friendly grin, "no harm done, eh? You alright?"

"Well enough," she said, and turned back to the railings. She had no idea of letting this strange man interrupt her time remembering John.

"Pretty young lass like you shouldn't have cause to be unhappy," he persisted. In response Anna removed her black gloves, and he nodded. "Young widow, eh? Guess you're off to make a new life?"

"Please," Anna said quietly, her eyes fixed on some distant point in the ocean, "let me be."

"Alright, love. I'll grab yer another time, eh? No harm done. See yer."

Anna nodded absently, but her mind was already with John again. The way he had held her, naked and shivering, on their wedding night. She pulled her shawl a little closer around her shoulders. If he were here now she would be in his arms. There had been such a comforting warmth in his arms.

She twisted her wedding ring on her finger. In the early days and weeks after their marriage, she had played with it a lot, unused to the little weight, feeling it a connection to her husband that kept her going. Now she had no connection at all, he was beyond marriage. Beyond her.

How she missed him.

The ship jerked, hit by a strong wave, and she was startled out of her reverie. When she had steadied herself again, she looked up and out to sea. A giant statue loomed – even from that distance, it loomed over her. She'd read of it, of course, and seen photographs, but seeing it like that was just beyond anything she had imagined. The Statue of Liberty. It was beautiful.

Maybe there would be something worth having in this brave new world.


End file.
